Knowing
by Elodie J
Summary: He knows intuitively, can feel the intense stare boring holes into the back of his head.


OD: I don't own X and the only thing I'm getting out of this is a pounding headache and a handful of reviews, with any luck.

**Knowing**

**~-~**

_they say love is blind, but believe me:_

**~-~**

"I know," he says, flicking his cigarette.

In the distance, the Tokyo nightlife hums gently. A breeze sweeps through the trees and rustles the thin branches, causing the last of their leaves to fall to the ground in an almost feather-like fashion. It rushes through the empty apartment, rattling the paper screens slightly and tossing the curtains up towards the ceiling. He watches the smoke drift lazily upwards, floating towards the full moon. His legs dangle dangerously out of the fourth-floor windowsill, and he rests his head against the frame.

"I know," he repeats, slowly and cautiously, "you're here." He knows it intuitively, feels the intense stare boring holes into the back of his head. He puts the cigarette to his lips and inhales deeply, holding a long breath before blowing the smoke back out gently. "It's like this every night. I'd have thought you'd be tired of me by now."

He receives no answer; he doesn't expect one. The acknowledgement is unspoken but understood, a silent kind of greeting.

"We don't actually get to see each other very often these days, despite _this_. I'd like to think it's another strange twist of fate, but I'm almost certain it's of your own doing." He rolls the cigarette between the fingers of his right hand, idly staring out into space. "Everything leads back to you."

An ambulance speeds down a nearby street, its piercing wail penetrating the simple (if sober) calm. Somewhere in the back of his mind, it occurs to him to wonder if his problem and the person in need's problem are interconnected. It's certainly not beyond any stretch of imagination to consider the possibility.

"It's always about you," he says bitterly, almost laughing. "Can you believe that I'm missing you? I can't. I don't want this. It's what I keep telling myself. I don't want anything to do with this, but somehow I'm stuck right in the middle of it all."

The siren's cry fades away, rushing towards another street, another house, another emergency.

"I worry the others. Grandmother disapproves, as always. And Kamui is concerned for my health, if nothing else." He inhales the smoke again in a kind of ironic defiance. "He told me that it's unhealthy to smoke like I do - he reminds me of you more than I'd care to admit. At least his concern is genuine."

A pause. He shifts slightly, wishing that he'd thought to put on his coat because it's much too cold to be outside - or almost outside, anyways. "Then again, everything reminds me of you nowadays. I saw the other Kamui and I nearly mistook him for you. He was grinning at me as he held Kamui up by his neck, choking him."

He can feel the silent chuckle coming from behind him. He feels the presence there, just at his back, hovering so infuriatingly close but not daring to so much as touch him lightly. He wants to lean back, but he stays still and tries to ignore the uncomfortable feeling of being watched intently.

"It's funny, you know. If you weren't who you are I wouldn't hate myself for caring. On the other hand, if you weren't who you are we never would have met and I'd have absolutely no reason to care in the first place."

He will not look around. He won't. If he turns around to see, he knows it'll only make things worse. (Not that things could sink much further.) But his cigarette has almost burned out, and he feels his resolve falling away with the cinders falling flight after flight from its tip.

"I should tell you that I..."

The wind blows again, stronger this time, cutting him off and flapping the curtains in his face violently, sweeping the papers he had arranged so neatly on the desk behind him onto the floor. He inhales deeply from his cigarette one last time before extinguishing it in the nearly full ashtray sitting beside him on the windowsill. Slowly, he turns around.

There is no one there.

**~-~**

_love is insane._

**~-~**

AN: Et finis. Reading a bunch of X angst plus procrastinating on terrible chapter endings plus one depressing mood equals a leetle Seishiro/Subaru drabble-ish-one-shot-thing. The man in the window is Subaru, and the one he's talking to is Seishiro. I guess - I was careful to tiptoe around even mentioning that there was another 'person,' or even anything more than a (possibly imagined) presence. But then again, maybe this is post-Rainbow Bridge and Subaru's grieving. Or maybe Subaru's just a little crazy and likes talking to the air. While I'm inclined to believe Seishiro is a sneaky jerk and slipped out before Subaru turned around there at the end interpret this however you wish.

The **quote** used is a line from _Who's Crazy/My Psychopharmacologist and I_, a song from the musical _Next to Normal_. (Look it up. It's great.)

Oh, and_ OD _stands for **O**bligatory **D**isclaimer, if you didn't manage to figure it out. 


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